Don't Leave Me
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: AU: He respected the thief that played a game of fox with him; he just couldn't get over the masks that her crew bore. They were all dangerous and she was the leader of it. Garrus being the Spectre and Shepard a pirate. "One must respect their enemy to truly understand their motive, and damn did Shepard have a motive."
1. Chapter 1

**Don't Leave Me**

**Prologue **

Consider his opportunity – daft, perhaps he just admired the way she worked; Her actions towards the matters of affection and the romanticized nature in emotions was never plagued dirty, no, she was classy when it came down to business and her ethic for doing so seemed flawless – it was her job that pestered him.

Jane Ann Shepard was a silver-tongued human that knew her way around alien encounters and brimmed with business ethic that it would put a barefaced politician to shame. She was charismatic in every form and her beauty spoke divine to several species, namely, her own species. If questioned about the fiery redhead, people would lie to secure her accord and she paid their price to keep her secret under the table.

Garrus Vakarian stared up at the flashing newsfeed that sprawled out over the wall that connected to the lower wards of Afterlife. _Notorious Jane Ann Shepard was spotted docking her shuttle after a heist that resulted in collateral damage of four million credits. A warrant has been issued, but she has not been apprehended at the time. If there is anything that could lead up to her arrest please report to authorities. We thank you and so does Omega. _Shepard's advertisement died down and was replaced by a 'Live Nude' performance. Garrus shook his head to dismiss himself then continued to walk up the platform.

Garrus was greeted by the wry eyes of asari strippers, and a bartender or two who'd glare up from their counter, but one bartender certainly caught his eye, or more like she waved him down over the sea of lights that almost blinded him when he stared too long.

"What'cha having?" The redhead began, leaning into the counter with a feverous grin, her skin blinding when lights flashed off her pale fixtures. Garrus hummed for a moment, eyeing the female from behind the counter who quickly cleared off a section for him with her wash cloth.

"What do you have?"

"Depends on your mood." Nothing that remarked a saint by the mouth, but her motives spoke volumes. She was subtle, not overbearing when it came to charming intentions that most female bartenders tried to play off – but her actions did bear witness to teasing. "You like fire? I like fire. Makes things interesting when you try to knock that bad boy down." The human bartender mused, showing off the whites of her teeth; she flicked her lighter several times.

Garrus shook his head, "How about something simple? I'm about to deal some business." He kept his eyes on her and she flicked her head to the front of the club.

"Meaning, Aria? I don't blame you for the need to get buzzed beforehand. Hell, I think I've seen better days before I plotted my job in this damnable club." She reached from under the counter, ducking her redhead down to pluck the shot glass and placing it in front of him. She turned her back to him to glare at the different containers of glowing mixes, pulling two bottles and mixing the aftermath into his glass.

"Drink up, big guy."

He downed it and cringed to the fruity flavoring then the bitter aftertaste. He ignored this feeling and her jutting smile, "On the house." She waved off and fixed him another drink, this time he hesitated.

"So what am I dealing with? With Aria?"

The human glared to one end of the bar then back at the turian in question. "You like yelling? I'm assuming there will be yelling. Depends if she likes you or not – I doubt friendly fire." The bartender made idle conversation, keeping her hands busy by swiping off the sides of the counter with her ruined rag, then slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'm actually looking for someone." Garrus began and the bartender's eyes studied his form, nodding slightly.

"Dangerous I hope?" She grinned when his mandibles flickered once then set tightly to his jaw.

"You assume a lot, Miss." Garrus shrugged, "Sure, dangerous. Apparently to Omega standards she's some big damn hero. I've tangoed with her plenty. You know the name Jane Shepard?"

The bartender lit up, but her lips held a thin-lined grin, "Perhaps. What's it to you?"

"What's it to me?" He really didn't mean to repeat her, but he was taken aback by her bluntness, "Considering its part of my job to arrest the suspect, sure, it's my business. I'll do anything to get off this damn station at this point."

The bartender gave a low laugh that seemed canceled out by the low rhythms of music, turning tides of cradled laughs that filled the air from conversations around them. "Damn, then I feel bad for this Jane Shepard. Keep up with that attitude Officer Friendly – you'll surely get answers from people around here." If sarcasm could be considered a beautiful talent then this human surely bathed in it.

He held up his arm and his omni-tool fluttered over hers, and the low lighting from her omni-tool pinged and showered her form in illuminating orange; he passed her a few creds her way and she grinned hard to his expertise. Excellent. "How about now?" His duel voices chimed.

Her eyes averted from her arm then to his eyes, she still kept her hollow point smile, "Yeah, sure, I know Jane Shepard. She does business here all the time. Mostly dabbles in bootlegging in Citadel Space and if you're lucky she wanders the station. As in looks – well darling I say good luck. People recognize her armor but her face is a damn enigma. You better be careful…" The bartender's face pulled a strange look over, but humor was evident upon her features, "she travels with a dangerous lot."

"And I'm a dangerous man."

"Is that so?" The bartender flashed over in Aria's direction, "She's available." The human nodded her head off in that particular direction. Garrus pulled back from the counter, politely bidding her off. Her voice distant, "Hope to see you again."

-x-

"And what brings a Spectre into my mix? Hurry up I don't have all day." Aria leans into the leather of her couch, one leg crossed over the other while her hands rests among her lap. "No time to play coy. Sit your ass down." Her frown is evident, but her composer is remarkable if he was being honest with himself.

"I'm looking for someone." Garrus starts off, collective even in the wake of her ignorance.

"Of course you are. People are always looking for someone, but what's in it for me?" Garrus leans over the couch to hand over the small payment of information and Aria scans through the information, the frown staining her harden features.

"Picked it off some mercenary, said they were coming after you next," Garrus stated simply, his muscles relaxing when she lowered the datapad from her face. First she grinned, then the grin was painted over with a frown and she threw the datapad into one direction and into one of her goons. "I'm looking for Jane Shepard. I need her."

"Tell me, how in the hell did this slip the system?" Aria waved her hand, dismissing whatever babble that was soon to erupt, she turned her sense back over towards Garrus, "Sure, yeah," Her tone was venomous, "I got something for you. You've talked to that human bartender in the east wing of the club? The only human bartender in this bar."

"Yeah," his face clenched.

"Your target, moron. You were talking to her this entire time." Garrus jolted from his seat, but Aria settled him, "Wait. You're just going to go down there and settle this? Guns blazing in my establishment?" Aria seethed wicked and it was almost horrifying about how calm she played it, "She's not there. She knows. She always fucking knows. She doesn't even work here and she just enjoys toying with my clients. So, with this bit of information – I'll help you and I always repay a debt."

One turian steps to one side of Garrus, his omni-tool scanning over his. Though, there was a duel note of agitation that was certainly defined off his subharmonics. "An address? Will this be reliable?" Garrus received the ping and glared up.

"Of course. Jane Shepard has a brother that's deep into red sand – owes a lot of angry people money from his gambling issues." Aria smirks, "Owes me a lot too. Go to him, he's out of his mind and he'll tell you everything about his sister. He's a scared fuck, ruff him up a bit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't Leave Me**

Shepard secured her armored mask; white and decorated in crimson customization, the décor indicated a bloody frown that plastered the virgin-white color of the mask. The clasp ended at the back of her head and she pulled her hood over her head to tuck away the stray strands of auburn that seemed to waterfall off the sides of her shoulders. She patted herself down, smoothing out the black fabric that made reasonable armor for rapid movements, but durable enough to handle a couple of bullets that'd block her path. Her boots were strapped down, and plated with rubber for easy friction to glide across slick streets.

She was infamous for her apparel, claiming to be the thief with no face. Sure, she'd have people that's seen her bright eyes and the way that her face slopes, but there was nothing documented. No face means you barely scratched the surface. And any portrait of her raked in big money – if given the chance.

"Lookin' good, boss." Shepard nodded off to the flare of honeyed words that draped almost innocently from Kasumi's lips. Shepard would grin hard from behind her mask, but Kasumi knew the exact position of her body language and learned right on that Shepard has been more than please over her witty comments.

"Charming as always, Kasumi," Shepard began, her strong voice muffled behind the mask. Kasumi could see the emeralds of Shepard's eyes through the tiny slits that were poked where the crimson paint ended as eyes. Shepard was walking up next to Kasumi who tossed her head to the side, sliding a smirk under her hood. "What do we have? I'm starving."

There had to be something about Omega that reminded Shepard about the constant glare of Chicago life. The prostitution? Sure. Gambling? Close. The attitude itself? Most definably. Omega brimmed personality, and personality was worth thriving on – how else was she going to pay the bills? Shepard enjoyed watching shuttles speed off, the environment in her eyes seemed flawless, a constant playground.

Kasumi leaned off the side of the fire escape, a single index finger trailing the invisible path of a man who slurred in his swagger, staggering over trashcans that could have been easily missed. "Been following this lucky guy for the pass hour. Aria had him escorted out after taking a nose dive into one of her girl's cleavage – didn't even pay to begin with." Humor always seemed to be laced in her voice, nothing seemed different in the sort.

"Lovely. Sounds like the type of guy that I want paying for my dinner tonight." Shepard leaned off the rail so casually, watching the man almost float off his intoxication into darker regions of the ally that sprouted off into fifth-street. "Nothing say's like a good cup of noodles without being paid by a man who can't even keep his hands off his balls." Shepard began to climb up on the rail of the fire escape, her boots perched on the handrails, and a single hand held her into place from jumping down.

"Give him six paces south and then he won't even be noticed. I can already taste dinner, Shepard. Pity this is just a simple takeout burglary. Ah, I can already feel my mugging days coming back up on me. One second, I might even cry about childhood." Kasumi egged on, her arms crossed about her chest as she leaned over the edge of the building, studying their target that swayed out. "I say drop down, cloak, and put the poor fool to bed. You know, unfold a couple of boxes for him, and make him feel at home."

"And let the vorcha feed? Na, I'm feeling generous tonight – I'd rather let the idiot live. Not serve him on a paper plate for whatever sneaks up on him." Shepard pointed out, and Kasumi haunted her with a hooded smile. Shepard knelt to her knees, standing upon the rail in a squatting position, her hand slipping down. Her eyes were steady on the poor bloke that's been claimed a victim in a victim's life, it was a simple game of theirs'," Plus, Gavorn is staring to get on my case about leaving the scavengers food. Something about breeding faster."

Shepard shrugged and Kasumi perked up with a hollow laugh, "Something about sex and food seems to mix, well, for me at least. Caption Gavorn, eh? I think he likes you. Sure, he's one of Aria's goons, but it doesn't mean the idea of fun never surfaces. There's always a reason for a man to complain."

"It's not like I purposely leave morons on the street. They mostly deserve it anyways," Shepard paused, "Don't remind me. John would kill me if I even considered shagging a turian." She waved her hand to block out any further distraction, "Focus, Kasumi."

"Of course, Shepard." Kasumi mused.

"Really, I see these men all the time – touching women, harassing the dancers in Afterlife – I'm not saying all men are the same, but hell," Shepard hummed, then swooped her leg out to catch the fire escape latter that hung off the rail, hands gliding down and her voice almost echoed across the ally grounds, "Just – just come on, Kasumi," she sighed, "I want personal information. If he's married, number of children, and the basics. I refuse to steal from a family."

The job was simple enough when there was abrupt landing. Shepard pinned the man down into the muck of Omega streets; he slurred vulgar intentions, but the women ignored the drunken rabble by pressing his face firmly against the gravel. Kasumi clicked her boots and bent at the waist to scan her omni-tool over his to assert her simple hacking system. The omni-tool bled a brilliant color of orange that faded over Shepard's mask, and presented Kasumi's lips that curled wickedly; the finish illuminated and held glossy over the wet concrete from under them.

"Howard Al-Kann," Kasumi began, her eyes scanning over his data feed, "Age thirty-six, married twice, no children, and has held a constant job at some dinky hub that's located in the ass end of this station." Kasumi nodded once, watching the way Shepard held down the body that still flinched from underneath her, jerking him once till he finally settled.

"So, noodles right? I was honestly thinking about noodles. Like…the entire time we've been talking and scanning."

Kasumi made a face that could only be recognizable under the constant glare of looming streetlights, "Noodles? Again? Where's the protein in that? If were talking about dinner, how about those sticks with chicken on them, or those cubes of steak? Those actually smell pretty good, well, it covers up the smell of city sweat pretty well." Shepard hummed again and the body under her completely stilled, her thighs clenched his waist, but she couldn't tell the expression of the man's face while she pressed him firmly to the ground's surface.

"I don't know, Kasumi. Joker is going to be pretty mad if we say were bringing him noodles and then bright him something completely different." Shepard slowly started to lift her body off the man underneath her, but his body still limped deader than a doorstop. Both women turned him over the check if he was still breathing, only discovering that he threw up from his dance of intoxication and finally decided to slip into sleep. Kasumi ghosted her hand underneath his nose, noting that he was, in fact, still breathing.

"He'll get over it I'm sure." Both women stood firm to pat their hands off on their pants, rubbing out the nip of bitter cold.

"Mystery meat on a stick it is," Shepard concluded, "now help me stuff this log in a trashcan so he can sleep off his handover."

"Aye, aye."

-x-

The doorbell rang.

No answer.

Then there was a heavy knock that sounded almost desperate. John jolted from his recliner, smacking his lips to taste the aftermath of settled vomit in his mouth. He ran his hands once down his body to smooth out his clothing, fiddling with his hoodie that was riddled in ash burns and spilled coffee stains. His hands felt out his surroundings, his eyes barely open, but blurred. He felt the leather from his chair, fingers thumbing over damaged patches from the times he's fallen asleep with a cigarette in his hand; he hesitated about ignoring the banging, but the knocking grew more agitated by the second.

"I'm coming, damn it! Hold your fucking horses!" John glared up from his position, his sight slowly coming to him in waves, noticing that he's left the television on, studying the moving images that brightly mocked his burning corneas; he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

There was more knocking to follow his voice.

John rubbed his nose to settle the steady burn from his last high, his veins were still pumping blood and he thanked whatever space god that granted him another day, he was sure to die from his last dose – given if he cared or not. John pushed off his couch, pulling up his jeans by the loops that pooled at his ankles, and pushed over the asari that still lingered in her last binge that he shared her with; she sat bow-legged on the adjacent end of his couch. "Dina. Dina, baby. Someone is at the door." The asari smacked his hand away from her shoulder, humming dryly as she dug herself deeper into sleep. Drug induced, and almost blissful.

"Dina." John tried shaking her again, "Dinaaa." He gave up and straightened out his shirt, "God damn, you're truly useless." He gave her one last shove and she buzzed. John took baby steps, his walk was jagged when he proceeded to his door. Keying in the code, the door buzzed green and opened to a turian decked in the assorted color of blue. Neon-sea eyes glared down into John's human complex, his mouth slightly agape over the mass of this turian who stood outside in the hall.

Business, of course, at this hour. Think fast Shepard-boy, "If you're here for your last shipment," John stuttered, "then it was lost in cargo hold. Fucking Salarians, I know they're stealing my shit." He mumbled into the collar of his shirt to wipe away the stray flakes of dried throw up. John would ramble on, and even his own language was beginning to sound foreign to his deft ears.

The statement that the turian claimed shocked John to the core, "I'm not here for – whatever you're selling. I was told, no, directed by Aria to come see you about a little problem I'm having." John paused his swaying steps, delusion clear upon his smitten vex. John was studying him, "I'm a Spectre. Garrus Vakarian. And I've been looking for someone who you might know a great deal about."

John waved him in and the door behind him closed and glowered a crimson red. Garrus took the time to watch where he was stepping, but there was too much junk on the floor not to miss; he crushed cans and old takeout boxes, and whatever found a suitable home in the habitat of John's shagged indigo carpets.

"Depends on this someone, Spectre. I'm no one important enough to know anyone truly significant, and if I did, it's going to cost you. Sure, I may know a few dealers in this district, but that's basically it on my end." John gave a bitter chuckle when he reached the lining of his kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator. He wiped the sides of his nose, snorting in pain from the raw placing on his face. "Hungry? I really do not know what your kind eats. I'm assuming you don't drink black coffee, because I have coffee."

Garrus' mandibles fluttered tight against his jawline, he was aggressively passionate, but if given the moment he could get an easy answer for an easy question, "No thank you," Garrus gave a tilt of his head, the characteristic caused John to cock a brow, "but, Mr. Shepard, I'm sure you can help me out in my dilemma."

"Like I said, it depends. Name it." Garrus eyed the sickness that rimmed the human's mouth. Red blotches became more noticeable by the constant glare of the refrigerator light. This particular thing disgusted Garrus, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Garrus assumed John acquired this look from the years of red sand abuse. Red sand, an enhancement for biotics, but still incredibly powerful to those that'd use it for daily practice. The symptoms from the enchantment resulted to manic illusions of creatures – or bugs crawling on your skin. Garrus once seen a man take a knife to his skin and peeled back his own epidermis to get these so called 'bugs' off of him. John only looked like a picker at the moment. Give John another year, and Garrus bets that John will be peeling his own face back.

"You know Jane Shepard? I'm willing to pay for any bit of information you can dig up on her." Garrus kept it calm, but John was ready to jump out of his own skin at that moment. Garrus watched the way that John mulled over the request, milking out a delay; rocking back nervously under the pressure.

"Who?" John swallowed.

"Your sister. Please, don't lie. I know you know something about her." John tensed and he couldn't decipher if it was because of the drugs that still clung to his system. Garrus' visor went mad over the vitals of this man and taking note to the pooling sweat that dripped from John's forehead.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, mister." John's rapid eye movement did not speak gospels on truth. He cackled a cough, almost heaving over when he closed the refrigerator door, but he balanced himself out over the blunt darkness of his apartment, his television still flickering silent pictures from lost reruns. John could see the outline of the Spectre's visor – brilliant blue, clashing lights that reminded him of a dull headlights from speeding shuttles.

Garrus held true to his dwindling, passive nature, "This doesn't have to be hard, John. I've checked your banking transactions that kept bringing up Jane Shepard's name, and your communications with your sister," Garrus waved his omni-tool to prove his point, and data streamed, "I'm not going to hurt Jane, if you're thinking that. Just tell me where I can find her."

"Man, I'm not lying." John whispered, but held his breath when he watched the turian cross the threshold, talons gripping at the seams of John's rugged shirt.

"I'll be damned if I'm played a fool, human. I know about your addictions and how your sister supports your ass with this rundown apartment. I won't hurt Jane," Garrus repeated, "but I never promised about not killing you for a bit of information." John can't breathe over the exact mention of fear, the idea of it runs vivid through his feverish mind. John is being pushed back into the fine surface of his fridge; he thinks about calling for Dina that slumbered on his couch, but she's too far gone to register danger.

John feels like a mouse stuck between the wall and a feline paw, he heaves and gasps through smoke-filled lungs, "I'm only asking nicely." Garrus' talons curl tighter into John's shirt, the alien's statement was told so plainly, "Where is Shepard?"

John pleads, and he's honestly embarrassed by his display once he considers to think about it, "I really don't fucking know!" He lies, and Garrus knows. Garrus jerks him back then slams him back against the solid surface behind him, knocking the fridge back from the force, "Jane is all over the damn place! I can't always keep tabs on her!" John's voice rises, and he forgets the definition of coy drug dealer.

"I can make a deal with you now. Tell me where Jane is and I won't tell every poor fuck your location – so they can't come stumbling in for payments that you owe them. Feel like a gambling man, John?"

"And what happens if I don't agree?" John wheezes, struggling with trying to loosen the talons that found his throat in the short journey, "She is my sister. The only damn woman I'll ever truly love more than my life."

"It wouldn't be the first time I killed a man for the hell of it, Mr. Shepard." And if humans could truly understand the principles of subharmonics, John would have considered him mad – or in this situation – madder.

"Let – let me scan your omni-tool…I'll give you Jane's coordinates…just promise me you won't hurt her, she's the only means of my lifestyle." If the term was meant to be comforting – Garrus was truly sick about this humans' existence. The infamous Jane Shepard, the one that he's made brief contact with on more than one occasion, was supporting a lowlife brother that could barely tie his own shoelace.

"Sure," Garrus hummed and dropped John to his feet. John quickly went to comfort his neck, running fingers over his neck that was soon to bruise.

"Hurry up," Garrus snapped, "I don't have all day." Garrus held out his arm for John to swipe over his, both omni-tools buzzed over the transactions of exchanged info. Garrus settled, and his shoulders dropped when he pinned through his omni-tool, talons flickering over the orange board. A giant red dot planted Jane's general location on his map, "Have you considered getting help?"

"And what?" John sneered when he could see Jane's location blink rapidly over Garrus' omni-tool, "and miss out on all the lovely company it brings me? To hell with that." The human sadly went on, straining for the oxygen that seemed all too foreign to his lungs now.

-x-

"I want people to like me for what I do," Jane sneered, her voice still muffled by the white mask with the crimson detailing the frown, "but fuck'em if they don't." Shepard glided across the railing, her boots sliding down the slick rails. She stumbled for a moment to find her footing, but settled for a steady pace. She rounded the building with Kasumi trailing close behind, yelling out, "Thane's outpost in two and a half clicks north! Keep it up!"

The two jumped over broken pipes that littered the outlining of the building, hands gliding over cement angels from the sides of the building. Mischief seemed to be a daily hell. Running water kept the roads slick from underneath them, lights from street lambs provided one end of lighting, while propaganda took care of the other percentage. Glass broken from drunken rabbles glared in the distance like a lost sea; beautiful in childlike wonder.

"Why? So I can miss Jondum's smiling face? How else am I going to sleep tonight? He's a good man, there needs to be more Spectres like him!" Kasumi's voice ran, her expression hidden when Shepard granted her a look from behind her mask. Kasumi knew in her gut that Shepard's features pleaded bewildering behind the mask; she snickered over the thought of a panicked leader.

This was like an extreme game for Kasumi – the notion of cat and mouse around an ungodly station spelled havoc; humans being the minority in this chess game.

"Something is telling me we can't attract any reasonable men. And what do you mean 'more like him?' He's trying to arrest us if you haven't noticed!" Shepard all but shouted the last bit out, their speed hauling when they heard the first shotgun blast – velocity was something you could taste at that very moment. "Double time it!"

"I didn't say he was perfect," Kasumi paused to catch her breath, "Let me take a go at Jacob! I'll show you reasonable. I've even pick out a perfect 'come hither' hood – I don't think he caught the memo to throw me on the bed." Kasumi's long strides were catching up to Shepard's side, "And those sit ups... Mm, mm."

"Girl talk later, Kasumi, not being arrested seems to be our major conquest at the moment, not mounting a personal conquest!" Shepard went to grabbing for Kasumi's wrist to haul her left, darting trashcans that obscured their obstacle.

"Oh – I've noticed. Nothing will jeopardize me in seeing Jacob's body again." Shepard rolled her eyes from behind the mask, her omni-tool pinging over a message that blinked John's name.

"Fuck."

Their movements mimicked a ballad. Desperate in every aspect to carry out agility, the duo's teamwork rang astonishing on Jondum's side. He surely had respect for the cunning personas of these women – craftsmanship was almost salarian.

Jondum could see them, they were both basically in his sights and so close that he could even pull both of their hoods down if he wanted to. The main objective was Kasumi Goto, but with the price of knocking two birds with one stone seemed too great to throw away. He double timed his actions, casting his hands, throwing smoke bombs that clung to the streets. Bravely, Shepard and Goto dashed through the sea-smoked streets.

They'd gasp, but threw up their omni-tools to relieve their vision in a tinted hue, vibrant in alluring orange to guide their ways. Rookie mistake on Jondum's end when both women vanished behind cloaks. The Salarian kept his pace when he, too, ran through his own smoke to only catch a red beam lighting his way. The lazar pointer did not come from him, but only angled towards his shoulder, he held his breath and labored a short laugh till he felt a great deal of pain shoot through his shoulder and exited from his shoulder-blade.

Sniper rifled by one of Shepard's men no doubt. Not meant to be fatal, but only settled as a warning to stay away from her people.

The impact knocked him back several steps and he was left holding his wound. Alive, sure, killing didn't seem stylish to Shepard and Goto, but the idea was enticing at the time. They just adored pushing his buttons.

-x-

**Jondum Bau, **

I saw you take that fucking bullet from the other end of the station. Damn, must be something when two human females outsmart you. Makes me wonder if this is some great gathering of Spectres to catch these two – I know that hothead Vakarian only just now joined the chase for Jane Shepard, and you aim for Kasumi Goto.

I was assigned to catch both if you two screwed up.

Happy hunting.

**Nihlus Kryik**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Up to this point – I really didn't proof read this chapter. There will be mistakes and I will fix them later. Also! The relationship with Gavorn will be heartbreaking… there will be a relationship between Shepard and Garrus later on. I'm just leading it up to a certain point. Bear with me. And Kasumi and Shepard are wanted for their contacts... YOU'LL SEE. **

Her logic was certainly intriguing; he was just station trash that had no right in the Hierarchy, in turn, never gained political right to bear colony markings. It would be after boot camp that he brushed by third tier: Formal citizenship.

Captain Preitor Gavorn was always amused by the shenanigans of this particular infamous thief; the way that her single digit tapped the side of her mask as if pretending to conjure a thought in his bickering, or to actually care what he thought – she didn't. He namely appreciated the low laughs that were muffled behind her mask, teasing him to no end.

They met five years ago; he was just hired as clean up for Aria when vorcha population was beginning to flood the system and Shepard was still trying to make a name for herself after she scurried from Earth with her older brother in tow – only being dubbed a common station rat who couldn't keep her hands off shiny stuff and John a junky who couldn't support his habit.

Gavorn was lucky to first see her face before she adopted the trend of hiding her beautiful alien features with a mask.

_Though, he didn't consider her beautiful in the beginning, "Look alive, sunshine." Her voice was teasing and he was certainly annoyed by the fact that she bumped into him – jamming his rifle for the hell of it. She'd begin to play her pranks when she took notice to his militaristic drive, and she fed off his anger when he snapped at her on more than one occasion. _

_He continued to be bothered by her – she called him names, she'd steal his lunch, she blew his weapons over tech advances, but he could never bring himself to truly hate her. For a single, lone female - human at that – she was remarkably strong-willed to live on a station that claimed her ill-willed. Her name seemed like a joke, an idiom in her speech: 'Shepard' one who protects a herd, one who guides; basks in God's greatness._

_Gavorn's mind revolved in empty memories of a single night cycle. She's smiling that smile that he claims to run his blood cold. She uses her voice, soothing when she cradles the side of his head with her leather-kissed hand. "You'll be ok, Sunshine." Her other hand is grasping at his open wound from a close range attack of a krogan that decided to get a little too close for his personal taste. It was his job, and if he died over a couple of sour Blood Pack members, than be damned on him. She protected him on his luck, kamikaze attack when she glided down the side of a building, latching onto the krogan's body and peeled back the crest from the korgan's head with her omni-blade – and she saved him. He repeated her actions over and over in his mind to keep himself awake. _

"_You could have died, stupid human. You never take on a krogan in close range combat." Gavorn didn't mean to sound harsh, but her smile plagued him in the most brilliant of ways. _

"_Don't need the promise of heaven to know I could die at any moment for something I'm doing wrong, Sunshine. In fact that didn't stop you, now did it?" Her voice is low, beautifully involved. She keeps the pressure of her hand on his wound; his blue blood reminded her of oceans she proclaimed dimly and he's quiet, listening to the way she breathes, rejoicing silently under the curve of her protective body over his sitting form. _

_She saved him. She saved him from himself, almost. Gavorn had a reason to open his eyes everyday – even if he looks back at the mask that haunts him. He keeps the pressure of her hand on him by gently folding his larger hand over hers._

Gavorn jolts from his daydreams.

Kasumi Goto hassled him as well, nudging him with her thin elbow. He receded to ignore them both. "Come on, sunshine." Shepard would go on, thin fingers looming near his cowl and he would try to move away from her skilled fingertips. "I know you got some bit of information. We're bored today." Kasumi was an inch away from Shepard, ghosting over her damn human smile that darkened under the hood.

He debated on just ignoring Shepard's sly motions, but he was too vexed to ignore this human that wormed her way into a heated friendship that he partially hated, mostly he indulged in her presence. If he truly hated her – he would have killed her five years prior. "I may have something." Gavorn eyed both women, his mandibles fluttering once to get the point across and indicated his smile, if a human dubbed it that.

Women were like predators, his words considered prey. "Aria got news of a slave ship docking later for supplies and auction. 0700 hour," Gavorn's eyes fell on Shepard's mask, sighing when he caught her posture erect; his fingers dwindled around the cool texture of his M-97 Viper. "I'm not promising any salvaged tech, but you could certainly pick up something from one of the slaves. You know how information and the galaxy works – you never know what's on the other side of the Milky Way."

"Resourceful and poetic? You're turning out to be quite the prize, Sunshine. Keep this up and I might actually show you a thing or two about sniping." Her voice smooth and low, muffled by her damnable mask, her finger taps the mouth portion of her mask, just the way he adores.

Gavorn returned her banter with a chuckle that came from his chest, "You could try if you knew how to properly hold a big gun, Shepard. And I have a big gun to show you." Deadpanned and settled. Shepard was almost wheezing from behind her mask in a blunt laugh, her hand clapping onto Gavorn's shoulder.

"Okay, okay! Can you two please just get married? I might actually throw up. We got our information so let's go!" Kasumi tossed her hand and pulled Shepard down the street, disappearing into a crowd of people and lime-light. Shepard vanished after her vain attempt in trying to wave Gavorn goodbye.

_Gavorn was the one to give that one Spectre John Shepard's whereabouts, and Aria told him to close his trap. Aria wanted to see how this would end. _

_Gavorn will do anything to protect Shepard, she deserves the very best…_

-x-

"I do live by principles, Sunshine. Not many mind you, but I do live by some." Shepard paces the room, eyes lingering down his old furniture, fingers playfully dancing across the leather couch. Her eyes finally finds the Captains' lulled expression and his mandibles flutter when she begins to undo the straps from her mask.

"I do enjoy your principles. Humor me, Jane." Her hood begins to fall letting her auburn hair drape across her shoulders, soon to follow bare when she unlatches her thin armor. Her upper portion pushed back to give him the best lookover of her bare chest; she is relaxed, teasing in every form. He is completely vexed by the alien in pale skin.

"Casual sex? I've never believed in such a thing." He storms her personal space. Playfully, she backs away from his towering figure. "Kasumi is beginning to suspect our little affair." Shepard speaks with a steady smile.

"Mmm. Hm! Casual sex does not suit you? May I ask what type of sex enlightens our situation? Kasumi can watch for all I care, Jane." She's still backing away from his body, balancing out her body when he tries to back her against thin walls.

"I've never been offered the chance to make love. Can someone like me even obtain something so simple? You are certainly very bold, Sunshine." His gloved hand touches the side of her face, talons tracing the lining of her thinned cheeks, his thumb catching the lower level of her lip. His eyes linger and roam across her bare portion, enjoying the slope of her neck and how she tilts it into submission.

"Can anyone make love in Omege? That's the question. You are anything but simple, Jane. How can the common hired-hand be lucky enough to even be granted such a luxury? To be offered to make love to the most beautiful alien in Omega -" Gavorn pauses to watch humor degrade in her eyes, but her lips tell lies. "You're certainly the most beautiful woman I've ever been with." It comes out in a whisper, something he truly never meant to say in such a tone, but her body warms.

"So you can't tell me you love me?" The question turns her lips into a harder grin, but her eyes plead a folly that's too hard to bear. Gavorn feels sick just thinking about it. "Not even lie to me for the night?"

"Do you want me to lie?" His hand slips behind her head, bringing her head up so he could press her lips against his hard plates. Something so human, so interesting, that his culture would try to mimic the affection.

Her bare fingers glide against the front of his armor, her sight strays. She's a realist, an idealist when it comes to better natures. She's a broken girl that's lived through it all. "If it's a lie, then there is nothing I'm missing. I only assumed you wanted to dabble more into my affairs – you already get onto me over my business sense."

"I'm sorry." He retorts. Letting her bare chest press against his cold armor, her breast are pressed tight against him, "I'm just not ready to tell you the truth." She does her own kissing, subtle kissing while he talks. Her lips trail out a map that leads from his mandible down to his neck. Gavorn gives a low chuckle, "I only bicker with you to get you on your feet."

"That's the only reason I respect you, Sunshine. At least you'll lie to me for my benefit. So, tonight, I love you more than anything. Keep me on my feet? It seems you have something else in mind for tonight." She simply states. Flirtation was based on her human language; her English resembling the King's speech.

"And I, the same." Shepard is already on her knees in front of him, his hand covered by her red hair. "It all depends on your mood." He finally leaves off, feeling her skilled fingers unlatch his armor.

-x-

"I concur that the entire idea of organic life is evil. Granted, some find self-justice, while the better half likes being close-minded on this – the idea of selling another – your own kind even..." Shepard pauses. She muses over the thought of historic events that broke the idea of Civil Rights, and famous spectacles that brushed the bases of reality that all men are created equal. Apparently, not all organics got that memo when you waved a few creds in their face and spat on the idea.

"Since the dawn of time, Shepard." Kasumi hums, her back leaning against the side of a business building that's been long ramshackle from years of ill-use on Omega streets, she's only gazing at the incoming shuttles that blurred their lights against the low textures of night, an entirety loop of a night cycle – it's been so long since Kasumi or Shepard has seen the texture of the sun that loomed over the east of Earth, "But what are you going to do, you know?" Kasumi could only shrug when she positioned her balance to stand up straight, stretching her shoulders in a circular motion.

"I'll tell you," Shepard grinned hard behind her mask, "We're going for a little shopping spree. Let's walk into the auction, baffle them with our bids, and when things start to get intense –"Shepard's omni-blade flipped and buzzed a gallant orange that illuminated against the white fixtures of her mask, she held the blade close to Kasumi, "Smoke the damn place and slit those bastards' throats. Besides auctioneers bother me – anyone that talks faster than a damn mile weird me out." The blade was dismissed by Kasumi's grinning curiosity.

"Right behind you, boss." Kasumi chirped and followed after Shepard, rounding the corner to the brightly lit stretch of street.

"Four-thousand credits on the girl!" A distant asari clambered out, the crowed was brought to whispers, herding like sheep, clumping together in a disarray, mostly filled with council races with a few human and bartarians that lingered off from the sides of the auction stage. The auctioneer, a turian, jerked the girl about by her arm, presenting her to the public. The turian held onto a boy who could only be fifteen years of age; taunting, the fifteen year old boy was missing a portion of his arm from the elbow down. Something so simple that stem cell research could fix…

The thieves cringed when they weaseled their way through the muck, knocking elbows with aliens that sneered at them in their passage – all too aware by the gang marking on Shepard's mask. Nothing but barking laugher, indulgencing whispers, and the off tune of a holo-violin that played off on the adjacent side of the street filled the girl's ears. Shepard leaned in close to Kasumi, her fingers touching her friend's hood, "Round off on the other side – then start screaming out ridiculous sums. We want our bet being the highest until we're allowed entry on the stage."

"Any signals you want to explain?" Kasumi whispered harshly back.

Shepard fidgeted, "Oh – you'll know the signal when it happens."

Kasumi was the first to pull back, glancing at Shepard's masked face. She could only shake her head with a brief, subtle chuckle. They departed, spitting when Kasumi dashed through the sea of different aliens, prancing off to the different end of the crowed that held up mostly asari; they chippered like bickering children, complaining that the boy was damaged goods.

Kasumi threw up her hand first, yelling, "Two grand for the boy! Six for the girl!" The asari all snapped their gazes to the human in the middle, frowning when they knew they could easily outbid a street urchin that crawled on her back to make a living.

_Just like a dog wanting something the other wants._ An asari next to Kasumi threw up her hand, "Four for the boy, and ten for the girl!" Kasumi could only grin at the asari next to her, damning her in her cocky gaze.

The auctioneer grinned, his mandibles fluttering over the popularity of today's hunt, "Do I hear a twelve? Twelve. Twelve. Come on!" The crowd retreated back to whispers and it was Shepard who broke the silence, jumping almost to catch the turian's attention.

"Twelve for the girl, and eight for the boy!"

Captain Gavorn was forced for duty to make sure the vorcha didn't step on any feet when the auction went on. He dimly shook his head when he saw the certain color hood jump from the crowd. Grinning to himself, he held his gun tight, "Really, Jane?" He whispered to himself, shaking his head. Asserting his attention to the passing band of vorcha that crossed his path. The vorcha hissed, and Gavorn erected his posture – they kept walking through the crowd.

In all honesty, Captain Gavorn was more focused on his human that kept raising her hand and promising creds that he knew she didn't own. Curiously took over – he knew something was up – including when slaves were involved.

"Twenty! I'm throwing in twenty for both!" Kasumi hollered, jumping and knocking the asari next to her by the arm. The asari quickly pulled back, and the universal sign for royally pissed seethed off her face.

The crowd went quiet, until a new voice cut in, something strange that stood next to Shepard – this voice automatically caused her to grin madly under her mask, "Thirty." Garrus was the new voice to interrupt Shepard, his voice low.

Gavorn saw this from afar and he gripped his gun tighter, a growl revealing low on his subharmonics. He knew this Spectre all too well for his taste.

"Officer Friendly," Shepard's voice pipes in and she's so close that her arm could brush by his armored forearm, "I was beginning to think you gave up on me." Shepard is all too still for Gavorn's taste, he could see the turian spectre's mouth moving, but couldn't comprehend the conversation that was placed on the other side of the auction table. Shepard throws up her hand, "Forty!" Kasumi glances to the other side of the crowd, grinning when she, too, noticed the spectre's head bob over the crowd – which only meant Jondum wasn't far behind.

"Me? No, never," He shoots back in her retort, his talons grace the air, "Fifty for both humans!" His voice settles for Shepard to hear alone, "Are you ready to conduct business yet? Shepard, you can't stray for what the council is offering you. Like it or not – you'll have to set away your pride." There's a pregnant pause.

Shepard throws up her hand - ignoring whatever he just said, "one-hundred!"

So, she went for the killing blow? Interesting for a pair of battered humans. Shepard could hear the low chuckle that came off Garrus' chest, and she couldn't help but to smile herself. Watching the auctioneer pause and shove the human children to the front of the stage, "SOLD. To the human in the mask!"

"You know," Shepard begins, her eyes playful behind the slits of her mask, "You're a good man, Officer Friendly. Too good. It's a shame that I really don't care." Shepard pushes by him and then the crowd that hazed her perception, weaving through all the outs till she was allowed up the stairs of the auction table. The children huddled, mostly the little girl clung to the injured side of the fifteen year old boy – the boy stood proud to face his masked master, his posture erect.

Shepard only nodded and held out her hand to the youngest, her voice muffled, "Welcome," before her omni-tool pinged and the stage consumed in a fogged anarchy. The crowd gasped, then there was a scream of a single man – a loud bang. The crowd waited for the smog to disappear to only find the auctioneer laying in a heap of blue blood, clouding the stage. The children, Shepard, and Kasumi already gone; like they oddly vanished against the pressure of the night cycle.

The crowd pushes by Garrus to rush to the stage. The true fate of the slave traders were scattered across the stage and the smell of gun smoke lingered on for days across the freshly lit streets.

Gavorn and Garrus locked gazes from across the stretch of street. Their movements were idle in questioning moments. Garrus left with tilting his head first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't Leave Me**

"EDI, I said black. I like blaaackkk." Joker hounds, and cringes when he rocks back in his rickety chair that was scavenged from some compose heap. The mech in question simply bobbed her head at his request, but the beautiful factor in this – this simple A.I. enjoyed the misery she set on the certain pilot. A relationship sprang from joining, and the taboo idea of an organic mingling with a synthetic was lost among the crew. Nobody simply cared. They considered EDI apart of their own.

"I only assumed you wanted creams, sweeteners, artificial glucose. From what I observed in human enjoyment in a five-mile radius – that humans indulge in the sweetness of an already bitter liquid. My apologies, Jeff." EDI's voice drones metallic, and if you listened long enough, blissful in his meaningless complaints about the taste of the hot beverage. EDI leans over the coffee table to pluck the mug off the coffee table adjacent from Joker's chair.

"Men, all the same EDI. No apologies to a man that makes no time to get his lazy ass up." Tali quirks from behind her terminal, pinning in several searches. Her fogged mask lit up when she heard Joker huff from his chair.

"And filling your suit with water and occupying the environment in your helmet with goldfish gives me enough motive to get up from my spot now." Joker inclined drolly, while Tali shook her head with a snap, and a murmur behind her glass.

EDI ignored the babbled between Joker and Tali and ended up rounding their makeshift living room that joined into the dimly lit, and flickering kitchen. EDI was greeted by Thane who sat idly by the bar, hands closed in prayer contemplating today's events. Zaeed and Jack chattered about their latest kill: Something about an asari that's hanging upside down – letting the blood rush to her head.

"You dirty fuck. I'm well aware that selling korgan quads rake in forty grand. I say – let's go out tonight and do a little harvesting on our own. Hell, we'll take Wrex along if he's in a good enough mood." Jack jerked her thumb to the entrance of the kitchen.

"It's a brilliant day in hell when you know ball-sacks range for ten grand the pound. Nature truly is a beautiful thing." Zaeed blew his smoke from his cigar into Jack's face, annoyed she batted the fog away from her face.

"We'll obtain the ice from that fucking salarian in the free clinic in the lower wards –"

Zaeed cuts her off, "And I have a buddy in cargo bay that'd be willing to throw us some crates for storing."

"You've read my mind, old man."

"Analyzing," The two quickly snapped their gaze to EDI who bluntly interrupted their morbid business scheme, "Heart and lungs can live outside the body for approximately five to ten hours depending on the chill factor in crates. Testicles deprive from the Latin term: testiculus, diminutive of testis, meaning 'witness' of virility, can be departed from the body for twenty hours due to krogan reproduction. Some studies from krogan anatomy have been proven that if you were to remove, mutilate a pair, that testosterone would decrease by an astonishing fifty percent. I suggest sterile, surgical procedures."

The two humans went quiet, and even Thane from the bar perked his head to stare at the metallic woman who graced the counter to dump the poorly made coffee into the sink – keeping quiet till she properly made another cup for Joker. Jack's lips thinned, and Zaeed's cigar drooped lazily from his parted lips, chewing on the end mindlessly.

EDI departed back into the living room leaving Jack to finally respond, "What the fuck." And her words echoed off into the empty walls.

"Interesting…" Thane lingers on his soothing tones, and both humans react by averting their gazes to him, snarling in disbelief.

-x-

"That's it! I'm starting a damn collection of plates with presidents' faces on them. JUST FOR YOU." Joker leans into his chair, blowing through the steam that hovered his coffee mug, his eyes peering over the rim of the mug. EDI is made idle, standing at attention by Joker's side.

There's a squeak in the corner of the room when Tali wheels from her office chair. Zaeed questions his own motives, glaring from his datapad about the twenty-four crates he ordered – thinking to himself that possibly it was not a good time to tell Joker that they'll be expecting a tall order. Jack dulls the light from her welding, her glasses partially taking the heat off when she mends two sharp objects together. Thane doesn't mind, but the steady beat of Joker's vocal cords disturbs him from truly finding his center, and his mediation would have to continue someplace else. Miranda and Jacob are going over the monthly budget, along with Kaiden and Ashely – who bump shoulders and jerk their head to the center of the living room where Kasumi and Shepard stood with their new company.

Vega is the first to wheel in the greetings, "Aye, Lola, filling the roll as Madre? I've been partial to hot mothers." Shepard's hand is firm on Vega's shoulder, she grins and in response James follows suit, until she shoved him out-of-the-way.

"Not exactly." Shepard trails off.

Kasumi steps off to the side with the little blonde girl in tow. The girl frowns when she captures the hazes from thugs from across the room; she's bold, and it fascinates Shepard who wrinkles her nose in a grin from behind the mask. "Slave auction. We bided and for the fun ended a little slave trade before we had to payout our grocery money…met a friend, you know." Kasumi waves it off with a grin. The little girl tends to not stick close to her hero, but mildly observes, she's nervous in her environment. Kasumi does not coax the child to step out of her comfort zone – more than she has to.

"As in friend?" Joker quirks, setting his mug down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Spectre Garrus Vakarian. That one." Shepard tilts her head, her smile hidden. The older boy shuffles nervously behind her, his good hand dwindling with his ragged pants' loops. He hides his injured arm behind his back, weary in all who stare in question.

"Hate that asshole," Jack leans on her knees, her elbows making contact – a dull flame still radiating heat from her torch, "Me and the old man were on grocery duty last week; He assumed we didn't see a two-hundred pound turian lurking in our _shadows. _Fucking idiot." Jack lurches, and Zaeed could only shrug.

Zaeed picked up, "And that slippery salarian – in the bright-ass sunshine armor. Don't even get me started on the brown turian. Nillis? Nilla – whatever his god damn name is. Sounds like a damn fortune cookie, and I've never enjoyed the taste of Chinese food."

Everyone averted their full attention to the two, "What?" Joker inclined.

"God damn, exactly!" Zaeed proclaimed and continued thumbing through documents on his datapad.

"EDI, did you forget to leave out Zaeed's medication? You know…the white ones." Joker rolls back into his chair, his bones already stressed to a point that it hurts to sit straight up.

"Jeff, I do not understand your request. I was made unaware of Zaeed's personal affairs." Joker brushed off EDI's comment, his full attention resulting to the start of the topic.

"The children, Shepard. What are we going to do with them? Cause you know explosions and naptime can't fit in the schedule, you know, not if you're a crazy old man like Zaeed…then I assume naptime is a necessity." Joker drifts off, his eyes casting to both children.

"That all depends what I can pick up." Shepard paused, then turned her attention to the little girl first," What is your name? Do you know where you're from?"

The little girl seemed shocked, Maryjane shoes clicking the cement ground from underneath them, "Lilly Foster." The little girl bit off. She's full of pride and the idea is enticing, "I'm actually from Illuim. The only child of the Fosters."

Joker cocks his brow to Shepard, the tone itself has Zaeed and Jack nudging each other. Lilly was a colorful dame, "So – you haven't been in the slave trade long I presume, Miss Foster?" Shepard humors the child.

"No! What kind of ridicules question is that? Do I look like a slave?" The little girl held her head high, "My parents left the house before my nanny showed up. So I waited. And with all my waiting I was greeted by a pair of turians." The child stiffened, "I just want to go home." Her voice found pleasure in meekness in the mention of home and how faraway she actually was.

"What about the twitchy one? The boy?" Jack chirped.

The young man glared around the room, taking a great deal of recycled station oxygen in. He quickly turned to Shepard, "Miss Shepard," his voice is soft, dreaming, but he pauses to truly consider his word play, "I do not wish to give you my name – until you show what's behind your mask. I'd like to know – my master."

Simple request and Shepard made it her job to unlatch the mask from her face, emerald fixation casted over his blue orbs, "Simple, but I'd appreciate that you will never compare me to a master. Master thief, sure, but that's Kasumi's department." Shepard's smile is on full display, "Now I recommend giving me your name, perhaps your birthplace wouldn't hurt."

The boy blurted out, "Elliot. I'm only allowed to go by Elliot. I'm from Eden Prime, but Eden Prime is no more – no one is there anymore."

The room shifted uncomfortably. They've seen the news reports.

-x-

Gavorn shifts uncomfortably in his armor, staring down at the little human that's hidden behind her bullet-ridden mask. "Making friends I presume…" he can't help but to chuckle under the circumstance, "must say, Shepard, motherhood looks fetching on you." His tone suggested teasing. Gavorn tosses the boy that stands next Shepard a subtle nod, "I remember seeing two abducted children –"

"Lilly, the little girl, is in good hands with EDI and Joker. Eliot is old enough to prance around the station," Shepard hummed, "not alone, of course." Her gloved hand slipped to the boy's shoulder, he flinched in response – too shy to truly understand her simple ways. "This is Eliot. Eliot – I want you to meet a good friend of mine, Captain Preitor Gavorn."

Gavorn nodded to the boy, "Though, you may call me Gavorn or… Preitor, which ever you prefer." His tone was light, but his hands are unmoving from his gun that's held close. The exact attention brings Eliot to believe that this turian looks like every other slave trader, along with batarians…

"A pleasure, Mister Gavorn." Nervous intentions causes Eliot to tuck his bad arm from behind his back, noticing the alien's gaze when he lingers down his body in a quizzical manner, studying the boy's withdrawal. Gavorn straightened his posture to bring his attention back to Shepard, authority loomed on his vocal-cords.

"Shepard, to be frank – I'm rather curious on how you'll manage work and watch over children…in fact, I'm damn concerned about your actions. You already have to take care of John's habit… _Even if you don't listen to me and give him the boot._" Gavorn trails off, leaving Shepard to simply shrug.

Pleasure was hidden in the Captain's vocals when he watched her edge close, a single digit scratching under his jaw. Eliot held his breath, nervous over the display of his new caretaker – but the turian in tow did not shove her away, or knock her away with the butt of his gun; the turian slipped up and showed humor in Shepard's motives, "Don't worry that pretty little head, Sunshine. Joker promised deployment to Illium to drop off the little girl to her family. After some researching I dug up the coördinates; even a finder's fee for bringing the child back. As for Eliot," Shepard cleared her throat and leaned back, "I assume he's with me for the time being…"

"Shepard…" Gavorn's tone is hard, but he certainly means well when it comes to his favorite subject: Shepard. "You are not going to raise a child properly on Omega. Including showing them the thieving business," Gavorn gives the boy another look over, "the boy is too twitchy to be as poised."

Shepard quickly states, "Joker, Zaeed, and Jack…"

"Joker will talk your head off. Zaeed and Jack only tend to blast your head off before they consider looting." Gavorn nods off, presenting his gun as so.

Conversation was cut short by the ghostly orange that flares over Shepard's arm; her omni-tool coming off to warn her over a message, whispering, "Damn, Gavorn – have to cut this short." Shepard shifts uncomfortably, Eliot sticks close, "But I love to see you later tonight." She dawns off suggestively.

-x-

"_Yeah, yeah. Please, don't stop. Preitor, oh my God._" Her head leans back and she can feel her hair swipe against the lower portions of her bare back; she had no care in how her voice ranged from desperate to completely needy in the matter of seconds; there's a certain whine to her voice that edges into a groan. Gavorn is completely content in being silent, but purring to how she bounced on him; his cock sliding in and out of her in a gentle tempo.

Her back is facing him and he keeps her posture by hooking his talons from under her thighs to guide her into a steady beat, forcing her to take his entire length in each sweep. The Captain would indulge in a low groan, "You're enjoying this? Come on Jane – humor me. Tell me how much you like it." He's positioned with his back pressing into the headboard of his bed, humming pleasantly when he watched her twitch above him and quickly closed her legs to contain her orgasm from rising – that didn't stop him from his mistreatments of pumping into her deeply; the action alone only caused her channel to become tighter around his shaft. Jane settled and spread out her thighs again to comply with his thumping need.

Her knees are bent and legs dangling, only her toes make contact with the bed underneath them; the muscles in his arms lifting her up and down while she hovered over him – still connected by the member that was shoved down to the hilt then back up by brushing his tip. "I…I – Oh, Preitor – I can't. I…" She needed leverage and her hands quickly grasped his strong wrist. He sharply pulled her down, leaving his bare alien chest to press tightly to her back. He shifted his hands over the tops of her thighs to keep her wedged from moving.

He growled into the shell of her ear if she tried to use her hips to circle him in that motion; his cock brushing by her silken walls in her sad attempt to grind out her frustration with his teasing – she could feel him twitching deep within her. "You can, Jane," He spoke deathly to her; the idea of his dominating nature spoke volumes to her and truly shown his culture, as a whole, in bedside manners: public affection being known as almost taboo or uncomfortable, while the idea of aggressive sex seemed the most natural – though Gavorn never attempted to hurt her in any form, "Tell me about it." His voice rolled charming, and his duel voices did wonders to her self-esteem.

"Please," Shepard began, trying to pull back from his grip, moving her hands to grip his knees, fingertips rolling and she attempts a steady bounce on his lap, she can feel how thick he is in her penetrated state. His talons dug into the tops of her thighs to keep her in place. His senses are drowned by the flashing lights from outside that gleamed into his window seal, washing over her silhouette in fine lights. She sighs over the pressure when his hand begins to slowly slide up her thigh, ending to where her hipbones sat, a slow slide of his talons created a map upon her pale skin.

"I will not tolerate _please_, Jane. You should know this." She can feel his chuckle from his chest, nudging her into her back. "Now, as I was saying – tell me about it." The damn turian is grinning hard into her neck; Shepard can feel his steady, lively, warm breath against her spine. Her breath hitches even over the thought.

He nips playfully with his dangerous teeth, grazing like a predator over the confines of a mate – a patron ready to submit into the wilds. "If you would so kindly – please – fuck me." She struggles out when her mind isn't as clouded from his thrusts.

Gavorn hums in delight, letting his talons slip from under her thighs to part her way, he lifted her above him again. "That's a little rude." He adds, letting his long tongue brush down the column of her slender throat from behind. He slid down the solid surface of his headboard, angling his hips to thrust up into her. "Fuck, but it's not unwelcomed. Spirits Jane," he almost hesitates when he can feel her channel clench around him – swollen and abused – he rejoices in the simplicities of the human form, basking in the anatomy practices of it, then he damned the science behind it.

Shepard gives into a little chant before her time was up, in her final attempt she clenches around him, her legs squeezing together. This little boost is enough for Gavorn to finish off himself, slamming her down against him, keeping her down so he could release inside of her; with every spurt his hands dull on her. Guilty? Sure. Amazing? Exactly. Sexual tension wavered when he slowly pulled from her, his talons rubbing her sides in adoration.

He's too lazy to comply by sitting up properly, so he waits for her to roll off of him, turning around so she could lay back on top of him, her chest to his. She climbs her way up his carapace, her fingers looming over his cowl. "How was that?" He hummed, mindlessly stroking the lower regions of her back with his palm.

She leans in to place her lips over his, adding several more kisses against his hard lips to answer his question.

"I love you." She calls in the dark, but he is silent. Only repeating the process of stroking her lovingly. She whispers the sweetest melodies to him in pure darkness.

-x-

**Next chapter is going to be hell. And – I'll clean up the mistakes before then in this chapter. (Please remember I'm not an English major.) The events will follow the downfall of Omega/Mass Effect 3. And I promise more Spectres! **


	5. Chapter 5

"Avoid the thermal sensors – they'll trigger the lockdown." Kasumi's whisper is hot on Shepard's ear. Artfully, Shepard's fingers swarm the orange glow of her omni-tool, waving her hand finally to crack the combination, a round rim of green burns brilliantly against the darkness.

"I've heard you for the hundredth time," Shepard didn't mean for her tone to drape in harsh, but she's been annoyed by the long process of cracking combinations, tired eyes trailing and matching up with numbers; her eyes burned, and she blinks several times to wish away the ache. Shepard dismisses her omni-tool, "there. Now time to deal with the vault."

"Something wrong boss? Careful, motion sensors." Kasumi moves in front of Shepard in the dimmed room, her own omni-tool flickering to life to hide their heat signature. With a wave of two fingers from Kasumi, Shepard follows.

Shepard shakes her head, sighing doubtfully, troubled, "I'm tired, Kasumi. Always tired."

"Want to talk about it?" They both move slowly through the room, revolving around the office desk that's set out on display in the middle of the cubical room.

"Talk about it?" Shepard scoffs, bitter in retreat, "You mean – you haven't had a spectre up your ass for the past two weeks?"

"Explain in which context," Kasumi chirps, the tone only leaves Shepard to groan in disgust. She watches the way that Kasumi ducks underneath the desk, running her fingers over the slick, blinking vault.

"Context? In which I've had THE Turian Spectre trailing me for the PAST two weeks." Shepard throws down the sack that's been strapped to her shoulder. "I barely have time to even piss and it seems every turn I take I see a blur of blue challenging me on how fast I can unload a shotgun in close range."

Kasumi grins from under her hood, fingers already at work in cracking the code, "I only assumed you enjoyed the company. To answer your question, no. I have not had a problem with spectres – perhaps that certain salarian – but I'm fine."

The vault finally opens, greedy fingers reaching in to haul the datapad, eyes looming over sensitive information, "Bingo." Kasumi waves the datapad in Shepard's face and it turn Shepard snatches the data information that streams endlessly.

"Whatever Liara –"Shepard's cut off by the bang that causes the glass looking out to thump and vibrated violently. Both women jolt from their spots, running to the window of the office to look out.

Fire consumes the station and people scatter away from men that share the same attire – decked in array of white and black suits. Shepard's hands press against the glass, she peers out from her mask and suddenly panics when Kasumi touches her shoulder. "Eliot is on the street with Gavorn today." Her voice muffled by her mask, whispering dimly to what unfolded in seconds.

She then yelled and pushed back from the glass of the office window. Kasumi retreated when she's pushed out of Shepard's way, "Eliot is on the street! Forget clean up!" Kasumi held her breath, she bolted along with Shepard, running out of the office.

-x-

"What do you think of that?" Gavorn points to the menu board, eyes scanning over the alien encryption and it causes Eliot to strain his eyes.

"I do not understand it." Innocence brimmed brightly in Eliot's vocal cords, he chimed very shyly while letting his eyes fall flat on Gavorn's glare.

"Assuming your translator has not been updated," Gavorn nods slowly while Eliot straightens his posture, almost embarrassed at his old slavers' flaws to not give him proper equipment, not his fault, only the beholder. Gavorn hummed sadly on that note, "I'll have to tell Shepard about this. You have nothing to be ashamed about, and it won't hurt at all to exchange for an upgrade." Gavorn glared back at the bright illuminating board, "I guess I'll have to read it off to you."

Out of habit, Eliot twiddled with his fingers, shifting between his feet while the Elcor behind the counter watched, and waited patiently. "Can you please?" And Gavorn nodded to Eliot's request, eyes gazing back at the menu.

"They have ramen. I hear Shepard eats that all the time – I've never had it – human cuisine actually baffles me." Gavorn gave a huff of a laugh; his gentle nature didn't help at all with Eliot's nervous composer. The boy couldn't help it – with all those years of being tossed to slave holder to the next.

"What else do they have?" Inquisitive nature peered out from the young man, he tried subsiding his nervous intentions by forcing his arms to his sides, tucking his disfigured one behind his back. Even if Eliot couldn't read the words scribbled in black, blaring letters.

"Hamburgers with cheese, milkshakes, chili-cheese dogs – and like I said, cups of ramen noodles." Gavorn waited, talons flexing and curling into his palm. Eliot pondered, watching his laced shoes before snapping his head back up to look at the Captain.

With the faintest of smiles, Eliot came to an agreement with himself, "I've never had a cheeseburger before, not even on my old colony. So, may I please have a cheeseburger?"

Gavorn nodded once, his mandibles flickering once to reveal his style of a smile, damning to a human that didn't understand social ethic of turians. He stepped up to the counter, "I'd like to place an order for a cheeseburger."

"Curiously sincere, what would you like to drink with your meal?" The Elcor droned, his voice bordering monotone to a certain degree – and if Gavorn truly noticed, the elcor sounded humored by the pair.

"Water." Eliot quickly inclined and Gavorn quickly shook his head.

"Second rule on Omega, kid, don't drink the water here. Let's just say the beer is cleaner than the tap."

"Do they have juice then?" Eliot asked and Gavorn turned to the elcor in waiting.

"Politely confirming, we do." They waited for Eliot's meal, and Gavorn had to cringe when he smelled the gristle of Eliot's meal – Eliot seemed most excited when he handed him the bag and the box drink.

"Thank you." Eliot chimed, grinning hard when he ravished the inside of the bag.

Eliot propped himself on the sidewalk, unwrapping the sandwich and enjoying the contents. Gavorn, out of habit, stood and waited for the boy to finish his meal, his eyes shifting between the crowds that passed by in droves. There was a flare of anger when the memory of blue armor passed by, several others pacing behind this certain turian. "No, it's just weird. Her trace just disappeared." Garrus spoke to the darker turian that bore white, etched colony markings.

"Well scan it again. Shepard is too valued to be lost to some – inextensible little war that stretches the Terminus System. We obtain Goto and Shepard today or we lost a huge asset to this war." The darker turian with the white markings harshly spat, his voice more hurried when he froze in his spot, "And if a few malcontents die in the process – so be it."

Eliot glared up from his bag to watch Gavorn, the thin line of the child's lips spoke volumes to him. Gavorn silently nodded his understanding, leaving Eliot to tense up. For a few stolen moments Garrus would glance up from the stretched out board that his omni-tool projected; he knew too well…

Garrus leaned into Nihlus' space, his head snapping to Gavorn who'd watch from the adjacent end of the long stretch of market, "That Turian over there – Captain Gavorn," His dual voices treaded low waters and even Jondum leaned his head in to actually hear the words that brushed out, "From my contacts – by rumor that's the turian you have to watch. I've kept taps on John Shepard's, Jane Shepard's brother. Supposedly he caught wind that his thief-of-a-sister has a particular fetish in meddling in interspecies affairs. Not too happy. So, she's been sleeping with one of Aria's little henchmen."

Nihlus was quiet for a moment, then he made a face that any slack-jawed turian could make, "And? You've never mentioned this before?" Nihlus rolled off stern, and Jondum fixed his posture.

"You could have saved us a bit of paperwork, Vakarian." Jondum chided, and Garrus retreated his omni-tool; the orange glow disappearing.

"I just think we should go for the root of the problem. It saves us time, minimizes the situation, and avoids collateral damage when we have to ruff someone else up."

"What I wouldn't give to be young and stupid again." Nihlus added, "This has to be fast. This is our last day before Cerberus really does a number on this –"

"What about the boy?" Jondum's tone grew impatient.

"That's the same boy I saw on the slave route when Shepard and Goto decided to trash it." Garrus reminded the salarian spectre, this tidbit was certainly news to Nihlus who shifted about on his feet, rethinking the opportunity, then calculated the conclusion.

"We're going to need bait. Just be careful with the young human." Nihlus finally said and all spectre's turned their glare to Gavorn. He readied himself, leaving Eliot to quickly stand with his bag still in his hands.

-x-

"I've tried contacting Shepard for the past twenty minutes. They're not responding!" Tali's voice rings through the joined communications. Joker lead one shuttle, while Cortez basically tailgated behind Joker's flight route.

Cortez's voice crackled into the comm-unit, "Finding the boss before jumping another system seems to be a more LOGICAL approach. Ideas? Anyone?" He pulled at the throttle when Joker dared to brush by incoming traffic, tilting the shuttle to swipe pass the rest; Cortez held his breath when he heard the bodies in his shuttle scramble.

The idea of fitting five bodies equally into two shuttles seemed bright, when – considering safety regulations, not so much.

Jack elbowed Zaeed's chest, angered by the proximity of dangling limbs that cut every corner; Thane is forced close to the window of the shuttle, but with his collective nature he did not budge when Jack pushed his face into the cool exterior of window pane.

"EDI, any bright ideas?" Tali cut through the comms.

"Knowing Shepard, and regarding mental welfare – I recommend to keep pinning her communications. With a simple transition, I should be able to hack my way into Shepard's personal log. Also, with Cerberus interruption – gang riots is in an all high today. When you land the shuttle I expect hostility among Cerberus and panicked residents of Omega that wish to leave, but cannot without proper transportation. My best recommendation is to pinpoint Shepard and Kasumi's whereabouts before departure – unless you do not wish to leave." The shuttle shuttered, and Joker braced himself.

"Tell me something I don't know!" Joker quirked, leaving EDI silent to contemplate on his question; she stared off into void.

"If you would have checked the hacked newscast, you'd be aware of Aria's disappearance, and more aware of Cerberus interaction of taking hold of Omega."

"Damn it, EDI! That was sarcasm!"

EDI's communications opened up, and Shepard's audio broke the silent air, "Shepard, coming in. Normandy crew? Can anyone hear me?"

"You are on the air, Shepard." EDI's voice was calm, soothing to many degrees while the entire crew labored out a joined frustration to find a clear zone to land their shuttle – something with less gore then more.

"The suits, they're –"Shepard began, but cuts off by Joker's tone, "Cerberus – yeah. We figured that out on our own, boss. EDI has already verified. With communications open we can trace your call."

"No time!" Shepard hollered, the entire crew froze for a distant second, "Take the ship and get out of here! You need to be more worried about looters before me. Just go!"

"Are you insane? Did you honestly strike your head on one of the fire escapes? I see the flaw –"Joker tried his hardest.

"Forget the flaw. The mistake is letting Cerberus take the ship. Rally everyone and dock for Illuim. Find Liara."

"But, boss…"

"Go!"

The two shuttles drew deathly silent, listening to the way Shepard's line died. The sad truth was – she was right.

"We'll catch up –"Joker tried to reassure everyone, "We'll always find a way."

-x-

Jondum touched Eliot's shoulder, his alien fixtures were hard when he yanked the boy back. Eliot almost stumbled over the sheer force of being separated by Gavorn. Eliot tried to pull away, but the spectre moved both of his hands on equal sides of Eliot and pulled his arms tight to his sides.

"Right now – doesn't seem like a proper time to negotiate an understanding. Have you two ever discussed business in Omega? When terrorist take over home and benefit, well –"Gavorn gave a troubled laugh, but his sub-harmonics gave out relief to his demise.

"Then you must know that we must consult with a particular human, the same type of human that seems to know a good bit about war effort, tactics, and the fundamentals. I figure station trash all think the same, hopefully I'm wrong." Nihlus' voice rolled forgiving, hidden by the action of shoving Gavorn against the wall, letting the child's eyes linger for a moment.

"I'm afraid – with my certain predicament – it seems that I'm out of the job for the moment. If the rumor of Cerberus hasn't reached this end of Omega –"Gavorn eased, but couldn't certainly move by the way the other turian gripped his cowl; a sheer sign of turian dominance, "I'd like to escort the child to safer grounds if you don't mind."

Gavorn tried to hold his cool, and tried to lift his form; he's denied the privilege, being shoved harder against the side of the wall. "Listen, whoever this human is, the one you're looking for – I do not know them –"His voice pitched, and they could tell a lie.

"Why lie? I can practically smell human off of you, female at best. Being an exterminator for vorcha does not require a lot of human contact." Garrus went on all too calmly for Gavorn's taste.

"Sir – Captain Gavorn…" Eliot's voice is meek, tired, frightened by this transaction.

"It's going to be okay, Eliot. Just hold still." Gavorn reassured him, but his voice echoed against the bodies that had him compressed to surface.

-x-

"Surprise," Shepard's cloak dispelled, manifesting her mechanics. She grabs hold of both Turians, her fingers gripping the cowls. She's learned through experience that these creatures remained top-heavy, graceful to a certain extent if they were truly paying attention to their environment. Applying all her weight, she lifted her legs up to cause them to stutter and reclaim their roots to the ground in a heavy thump.

Kasumi plays her part by swooping, and like an awkward dance Jondom tries to capture her in his arms. The woman finds humor in their sway, leaving Eliot wide-eyed and horror-filled. He quickly latches to Shepard's side. Bending from the waist, Shepard leans over the two men, "I hate it when people talk about me behind my back – too bad you're on yours."

Before Shepard could lift her head to poke fun at her long-lined lover. A shot rings, and echoes plainly against slicken streets. "Gavorn?" The question slips out of shock, and for a moment the Captain's wild stare loses its luster. Even Kasumi was surprised by the shock, giving Jondom time to react. A bright beam of kinetics play, strapping Kasumi's arms to her sides.

Blue blood dots concrete, the force of entry spraying the graphic image. This would surely be burned into the very depts.

"Gavorn!" Shepard yells and whips her head around to capture a full vision of Cerberus soldiers taking their place. There would be nothing honor-bound about shooting someone between the eyes while their moment of luck runs short. "No, Gavorn!" Eliot's arms tighten around Shepard; long thin arms pleading her not to leave his side, but she shakes.

Nihlus and Garrus find their footing before Cerberus dawns closer, Jondom is pulling Kasumi behind them by the beam that's latched around her; a thin force field.

The Cerberus soldiers do fall by the rounds of smoked ammunition, finding peace lodged between brain matter, but the fact of the matter was standing shell-shocked and world-weary behind them. The both turians hoister their guns to study the one thief that's been caught, and the other that's too much in a daze in wiping the blood off the fallen turian's face.

"Jane Shepard," Garrus approaches the woman who's given the most hell he's ever been through, "he's dead. You're going to have to get up. Omega is gone. There is nothing here anymore. Nothing that you can do."

Shepard doesn't cry. Crying is a private matter when others are closed off behind thick doors, she simply mourns, delicate fingers tracing pictures. Nihlus touches her shoulder to shake her, slowly moving his hand down to lift her up by her arm.

"Under Council Space, Jane Ann Shepard, Kasumi Goto, you are under arrest. Jondum –"Nihlus pulls Shepard in front of the salarian who activates the same device that strapped Kasumi in place and malfunctioned any of her tech that could advance and override.

The station is burning under her feet, and her world is coming down on top of her. She's always calculated every approach, divided any cause, and subtracted the aftermath. Her plan always seemed flawless, divine if she considered herself vain and prideful.

The way that Kasumi looked up at her, and the way that Eliot reattached himself to her – was miscalculated. Shepard looked over her shoulder, and she almost chocked out a yell when she could still see Gavorn's slumped over corpse.

He never told her that he loved her; he was much too afraid.

-x-

"We're truly sorry about how everything went down." Jondum includes himself in dead silence, breaking the barrier of space between it. The trio of spectres ushered them through the small spaced shuttle, preparing them for their long haul back to the Citadel.

Jondum pulls Kasumi's hood down, and Garrus prepared by removing the straps from Shepard's mask. A pair of angry emeralds' glared up at him; she jerked her head away from him out of defiance, but settled when she could see Eliot in plain view; he calmly took his seat politely.

"Apologies," Nihlus speaks, "we have to remove any personal items and gadgets. You need to be presentable when you speak in front of the Council, also you know how the Citadel security works." Nihlus pauses, taking in the view of both defeated women; they hardly listen, their eyes linger against the ground from underneath them, "You two do not realize how valuable you are to us. You have the contacts that could very well start a war – or end it in our case."

"Anyone that polices themselves out – those are the types of people not to trust with said information. Sure, I dabble in information business, sell something on the side, but it doesn't mean my resources are as shabby as you make it out to be. You could very well be selling yourselves out, wasting your time Spectre." Shepard snaps, and she struggles under her restraints; her hands knocking against the metal of her seat.

"You're the one to talk about morals? So said the woman who thieves for a living." Garrus' voice is nothing threating, just agitated by the brief exchange. Nihlus turns to give the other turian a sharp look before turning back to Shepard.

"And so said the man who partakes in business in front of the young minded! How dare you – you bloody man. How dare you conduct interrogation in front of a boy? How dare you consider the task when you know a station is under siege? The Captain could have been very well alive, but no, you have the blood of a dead man on your hands. I want to spit at the name of spectre, something romanticized, a galactic force bent to be unstoppable. Your whole damn force is a crock, a bunch of legalized terrorists. Do not berate me. I know my place, Spectre. Do you?" Shepard's rant simmers, and when her wit betrays her and turns her into something different – it's almost horrifying.

Kasumi's eyes are wide, her hair a mess by the way her hood pulled away. Eliot twiddles in his seat, staring down; nerved by the way that the day betrayed itself. Nihlus and Jondum glare from Shepard to Garrus, and Garrus is the first to glare back at her; eyes trained, cut into slits.

Garrus leaves to the other side of the shuttle. The ride to the Citadel is quiet the entire way.

**A/N Time!: Zaeed and Jack will not be a couple. (I could only see them as a Father/Daughter or Mentor/Student relationship. They're close, but not in that manner. Also! I'm still editing this chapter. Fixing major grammar, ex. So - you'll have to forgive me and I'm truly sorry if that turns you off from this story. Anyways! **


	6. Chapter 6

The constant click of shoes bewitched her, spiraling into madness; this was controlled by her simply biting her lip; a nervous habit she adopted as a child. She mostly did it when she knew the odds would be stacked against her and didn't add up correctly. As far as Shepard could see, her chances of walking off free and untouched was desirably obscure; it generally was unnerving.

"You'll be choking on your own allies if you treat them all the same, Officer Friendly." It's been weeks, long weeks since Shepard actually budged from her seat. "But please, ask me the question again. I need something good to laugh at – no, bring me Nihlus. He's friendlier to talk to." Garrus was on his last leg with Shepard, her grueling nature was so beautifully blunt that it was wearing thin.

Shepard leans forward in her metal chair, red hair draping off the sides of her shoulders; she showed off her hated glint that was hid plainly in her vex, but kept a teasing smile plastered upon pale, scar-kissed lips. Garrus is quiet for the longest time, pacing from the table to the door to look out the window that peered out into amble hallways, "I'm waiting."

"It's simple, really, I'm even making an offer." Garrus' tone seemed moved, edged out almost.

"You're repeating yourself, Officer Friendly. My memory is not the best, I suggest refreshing it. Please, do go into detail about the little interrogation held on Omega, you know, where I was trying to save my friends until you got in the way." Absent-minded, Shepard jerks against her restraints; her hands pressed to the lower section of her back, "Not all your fault – you had your click with you, and Cerberus happened to crash the party."

Shepard skims her trained eyes up his stature, Garrus snarls in her wake; bewildered at his finest. "You can't leave the Citadel. I can give you clearance to roam the presidium, but prohibited for space travel. You are a walking menace. No, wait, I don't understand why Nihlus gave you that alternative." Garrus feels like he's repeating older conversations with her now.

"He is rather charming. I'd rather do business with him." Shepard smiles sharply, proudly.

"I should hang you from the hooks of your armor over the Presidium Lake. Charming enough?"

Shepard grins hard, "Almost. Oh, oh no. I think I'm falling in love with your award-winning charisma. Stop it, Officer, I might actually give you all my information at this rate, maybe my red sand trade route if you ask nice enough." Shepard chuckles darkly from under the heap of her fiery hair, her boots clicking against the legs of her chair; her true art dabbles against levels of mocking, bantering her way into hatred that subsided in Garrus' sub-harmonics. Shepard drips with sarcasm.

Garrus takes a moment to observe her, weary eyes belittling herself. Humans never did lack for confidence; presenting their necks to their rival. They're soft, pliant, and horribly shifty. What they lacked in honor they made up for in buoyancy, accuracy, and poise statures. They shared the beauty of the asari, but craved a blood lust like the korgan.

"The boy –"Garrus trails off for a moment, the topic of choice clearly wipes the smirk from Shepard's face, so he decides to work with it, "I forget his name. Eliot, right?"

"I believe." Shepard notes drolly, sarcasm taking root again.

"The boy is much too young to work in human standards, but old enough to know right from wrong?"

Shepard is silent, she doesn't truly understand where Garrus is leading this – taunting conclusion. "He is smart. If that's what you are asking?" Shepard wasn't known for meekness, inquisitive assumptions was more her style.

"What does he think of his current predicament? Pulled from slave trade, to Omega, then hauled across the galaxy again into Citadel Space."

Shepard contemplated his drastic change from interrogating her contacts to simple conversation that related to her little fellow that seemed attached to her hip since saving, "I'll bite, Officer, how does this imply to anything we've been talking about? The affairs on who I take on is none of your business. Simple."

"Then I can also assume that he's taken to your trade of work? Are you teaching the young to carry on after you? Are you –"

"No." Shepard shifts in her chair, tugging slightly against the restraints to find some ease, "I have not shown him anything, nor do I plan to. You have met my brother correct?"

"I have, but –"

"But…listen. I have forbade anyone in my inner circle to show him my line of work. Children should never learn to steal, only persistent, yes, but to never lie and steal." Shepard shrugged, "It may not look like it, but I was taught by John and continued on from street-leach to professional conning and adapted in business eidetic. What I'm say is – I have not exposed Eliot to the possibilities of a hard life. Before this shake down – what little money I had – I've been buying him educational programs, been hooking him up on lessons with my A.I. He's learning quadratics, and world religion. The boy could grow up, he could go to a proper school later on down the road." She leaned forward in her chair, a thin line plastered against her lips.

"The point I am trying to get across, Shepard, is that if you help me – I'll help you." Something in his line sounded like a ploy, a horrible plot that formed – selfishly, if it involved Eliot, Shepard would listen to every word. "I can get Eliot into the best school on this side of the Presidium – do you really want a child enduring life under a light and station-trash education? We just need evidence against Cer-"

"- Cerberus?" Now Shepard is frowning, "You are heading down a dark path, Officer. And bribing me over my own? Shameful. And dare I say - clever?" Shepard mulled, "State all your benefits before I agree. Just because I have a vendetta against Cerberus does not mean I'll budge and throw away all my resources. Make it worth my time." Her voice expanded, threating, testing even to Garrus to make a wrong move. She was mapping out circles around him.

"You shall remain on the Citadel, where this child that you house will receive the best asari education that spans from here. You will be granted free rein on roaming, but watched and denied space travel. You'll be promised housing, secured a job for the time – all we're asking is a few contacts."

"In your case, possibly a lot." Shepard scoffs, but leans back to settle, "I demand Kasumi be released. She deserves none of this."

"You know I can't –"

"Then I can only believe that our deal has not been finalized. I know about your damn war. Something on the outs with the krogan. Beautiful race. I do enjoy petty ambitions. Honestly? I have no sympathy to races that kill children, demoralize an entire culture by basically snipping their balls from under them." Shepard huffs out a troubled laugh.

Garrus snaps, "As if humans have a right to talk. We've studied your kind – better to turn on your own kind simply by the color of their skin or the difference in religion. A worthless, greedy lot. Fine, I'll reason with my betters – Kasumi Goto will be seen out. Oh, and trust me Shepard – you'll be talking your damn head off at the end of this."

Shepard simply laughs, her chuckle low and dark when she eyes Garrus, and Garrus eyes her to assert his authority, "I look forward to working with you Officer. It will be an honor. Your need to rewrite your cultures' incompetence is – enticing. Bravo."

-x-

"Start with something pure and you'll make mistakes." Shepard paced before the turian councilor's desk, "The idea of The Genophage was an abomination to begin with."

"You're acquired for information not for personal opinions."

"Fine, fine." Shepard paused, her boots clicking together; she was grinning her hardest. "So," Shepard shrugged, "what bit of information strikes your fancy? I was promised –"

"– Will be promised after I know that you will be a tolerable ally. I'm passing on military grade time in hopes that a convict could be some worth. Your attitude is not promising, in fact, I'm actually questioning my own spectres' sanity. You do not seem formidable enough, I'd rather ship you off of my station. But it seems I'm a desperate man."

"Trust me, Councilor. Give me ten minutes and I can throw an entire galaxy into war with the information I know. Twenty grants you a system holocaust." Shepard kept her smile. "I'd consider appreciation. Maybe a little respect? I know turians can't smile –"Shepard's eyes trailed off to the glare The Councilor shot her from behind the desk. She hummed, "State your priorities."

"With all your vast knowledge – you've happened to stumble upon Reapers. Selfishly, you toy with lives. Billions. How may I grant you respect when you play games? Your ignorance is damnable, unjust, and disgraceful. You're a shrew of a woman, a vagrant, and station trash. Dare I say more? Dare I say we could of been warned?" The turian councilor slapped down the datapad that bumped and skidded across the solid surface of his desk.

Shepard's smile dropped and her lips thinned when trained fingers picked up the datapad, quietly thumbing through the brightly illuminating images. "I-I have heard of them." Shepard swallowed her own words, "But dare I say, that you have shot down this slide in the system two years ago? I have sent anonymous warnings, decoded several C-Sec systems to warn, and bypassed myself through Cerberus securities. That is how I found out about The Reapers. This Illusive man – he's written several reports on their movements."

"Anonymous inscriptions led us to believe in dabbles of a madman that's studied a race that began a rapture 50,000 years ago and élite enough in technologic advances to crash Citadel system's for several hours. Of course we dismissed the claim, we had no idea it's been you. Palavan is in flames now."

"So is Earth. With no one listening what was the point in yelling blaspheme?" Shepard deadpanned. "I have another bargain. Send your troops to Earth and I will give you anything you need to know. I am willing if you are also willing to supply me with the proper equipment and settle Earth's defense."

"And you make a bold claim, where I'll have to null Kasumi Goto's freedom. You both will stay on the Citadel until further notice. And if you are working towards an allied promise then you must be touched in the head. No one will listen while their own homeworlds are burning."

"No, Councilor, listen. Release her. She'll play a key component in salvaging more information from Cerberus' side. Think about it sir. I've – came across a particular schematic –"Shepard's voice dimmed and she placed down the datapad upon the councilors' desk. "Our homeworlds do not have to suffer. If only we work together in supplying -"

"- Explain."

"Upon one of my heist I stumbled on Mar's base. Alliance archives, the works." Shepard's mood lifted with a subtle chuckle and even the turian councilor seemed less tense, "Funny – it seemed even Cerberus must have been tipped off about this particular layout, because they were madder than hell when we stormed the front." Shepard lifted her arm and her omni-tool flickered the image of blueprints, basked in orange. "It's a big weapon. Huge. The Alliance has known about this weapon for a long time, thirty years to be exact, but I can only imagine this is a last resort project – I – the mechanics, the notes are remarkable."

"Spirits…" All the air left The Councilors' lungs. He mulled for a moment, pacing back away from his desk to stand in front of Shepard, gazing over the orange interface. "Yes – Miss Goto will be promised release, but authorized to keep taps on her."

"That's all I'm asking, Councilor, sir."

-x-

In the angst of her righteous there would be a pregnant pause. Shepard glares off out into open air, artificial sun glared against the pane of glass. Her silhouette darkened and she watched Kasumi's ship depart.

She's been prohibited to even saying goodbye, the idea itself was that Shepard could not feed her Intel, and all of Kasumi's findings would be automatically sent to Council politics via Jondum who has been ordered to track Kasumi's movements, but the way that Shepard's defeated form – led to curious notions from a Spectre that's given her a harder time.

"I'm sorry about your friend, and the one back on Omega." The thick air was still laced with wordless lips from the woman who plastered a faded look, so curious. Shepard's arms folded across her chest, she slumped to one side of her hip when she felt Garrus drawl to her side overlooking to Presidium.

It startled Garrus almost that Shepard had nothing to say, no witty one-liner, not a single profanity; she just stared out into open void, watching people pass by and converse. "Things happen. I wouldn't blame you, no, I'd blame fate." Her voice rolled like velvet, wise-stricken in every dawn of light; she was a complete enigma.

She gave a fumbled shrug, but relaxed under fake rays of light. Garrus' taller stature straightened and he, too, stood in silence; his mind spinning like waterwheels. "You have my deepest condolences. Off the record – I have never hated you on those long months of chasing you all over that station. I hated what you had me doing. Nipped me a couple of times in the shoulder with that rifle."

This gained Garrus a light chuckle that sounded almost too genuine to come from a notorious Jane Shepard; she rocked back on her heels, reclaiming her playful nature. This action alone dawned Garrus careless and he also relaxed. "Sympathy? How – rare. Well, for me. And I'll have to say thank you on your own accord. Officer Friendly, you seriously believe that'd I hate you? Na. I found you too interesting to truly hate you. Irritating? You bet your ass. You're young, hotheaded – you'll learn."

"It is hard to believe on how apathetic you are about this brash change. I'm not saying it is not admirable, just strange. You're going to become a real spectacle with your newsfeed of knowledge."

"For what you mistake for being apathetic, unmoved, is just my optimistic attitude towards this galactic operation. From where I'm standing – we'll all die if we don't conquer this threat. You, me, everyone. Now – if only your council believed in my findings two years ago we would have had enough time to respond."

"Assuming a madman crashing C-Sec controls over a threat yet to be seen till now, well, I don't blame them." Garrus gave his own burdened laugh, "I'm sure they've run down our operation with you?"

"I'm afraid they haven't, but I presume you're going to run it by me." Shepard kept her simple smile, she let bitter-delight blossom in her vocal-cords.

"About the krogan –"

"–They've requested a negotiation," Shepard asserted herself, her gaze inclined in his direction.

"Well, then, you must also be aware that even if you're prohibited Galactic Space Travel – but forced to lend a hand on Spectre business and detained to a turian vessel to promise a peaceful retreat and Krogan-line support on Palavan."

Shepard froze, she indeed was not aware of this, Garrus must have sensed it also because he quickly added, "Do not worry about Eliot. He will be placed in protective care until your return. We – will be scheduled take off a week from today. Take your time, settle in, and enjoy the Presidium for the time being. We'll be docking on Tuchanka soil."

Shepard's expression made a complete flip from charming to enraged, seething almost, and she loathed anyone in a five-mile radius – no – she hated everyone that inhabited this station. "As you can tell, Officer, my hands are tied at the moment. I need a lot of time to think about this and you are breathing in my space. Get out. Now." She tried to sound calm, but at any moment her will to be rooted to the ground underneath her seemed impossible and Garrus took precaution to step away from her vexing ways.

He stepped back respectfully, dipping his head to bid her goodbye.

-x-

There was several holographic screens that floated endlessly in her space. She sorted them, filed them in respectable areas. "Were you able to contact the krogan leader?" Nihlus questioned, sitting back in one of the leather couches Shepard offered him; he adjusted uncomfortably against the texture, watching with great interest with her working, multiple fingers.

"I was promised a conference call via vid-comm. I'm old friends with the leader, did a couple a jobs with him before he asserted his authority. Really stuck my neck out for that idiot in obtaining some old family armor." She kept her eyes plastered to the multiple interfaces that graced her air, with several fingers she slid one screen away and minimized several others with a pinch of her index and thumb finger.

"War and friendship can only go so far." Nihlus uttered, and it had Shepard peering at him through her translucent screen. Nihlus fiddled idly with his half-empty cup, then placed it on the coffee table next to the chair's arm.

"Perhaps, but you certainly cannot read people like I can." Her honeyed words broke the mile-crack smile on her lips. "You'll obtain your information and your men." She paused, thinking before she spoke, "My prayers go out to Palavan."

"Mine to Earth, but I wouldn't worry about my family on that ol' dessert planet. I was actually born in a small mercenary outpost outside of Hierarchy space."

Shepard didn't flinch when she noticed he wasn't sitting upon the leather seating and was in fact inspecting her own work from over her shoulder. "I have turian friends. I have heard the difficulty of being born outside of the Hierarchy." Shepard expanded one screen with both of her index fingers. They both viewed a human location. Chicago. And she remembered it fondly, "Look, this is where I was born. It only looks like Hell because it is, but I enjoyed it."

"Friends? What about that turian back on Omega –"He leaned in close to ponder over the tall develops and human ambitions in the arts of their buildings. Plain, vast, smog-smitten skies loomed.

"- Fine. I had a damn lover." Shepard wanted to wave it off, "I'm only verifying because you most likely knew already. No reason to be ashamed. He was barefaced and born out of Hierarchy space. He explained his outsider status did not gain him many fans in basic and not being part of a colony only added to the problems." Shepard gave a nervous laugh when she could feel eyes on the back of her head, silently questioning her morals as a human being; her lips thinned, she didn't want to talk about this. "He was a good man, regardless. Treated me with more respect than any man of my own species."

"I'm terribly sorry."

"So am I." She closed out of the image of Chicago and went back to her work, bringing up several more contacts and points-of-interest.


End file.
